


For Better or For Worse - a.k.a. The Bunny Boiler Episode

by Soraya (soraya2004), soraya2004



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Amnesia, Crack, Established Relationship, M/M, Sith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-11
Updated: 2008-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:38:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/Soraya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/soraya2004
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has vowed to stick with Rodney no matter what</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Better or For Worse - a.k.a. The Bunny Boiler Episode

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ascension](https://archiveofourown.org/works/152713) by [Soraya (soraya2004)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/Soraya), [soraya2004](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/soraya2004). 



> A slightly cracked out story featuring McKay and Sheppard as Sith. This isn't a sequel to [**Ascension (Adults Only)**](http://soraya2004.livejournal.com/19402.html#cutid1) although it is inspired by that story.

John let the murmur of his voice guide Rodney through that slow climb out of sleep. He kept up that soothing stream of nonsense while he waited for Rodney to come back to him, drawing a hand up sweat-chilled skin to the curve of Rodney's neck, stroking his thumb gently over the hammering beat of Rodney's pulse. It took longer than usual this time, and Rodney looked a little disorientated when their eyes finally met. But John kept telling himself that this was all part of the healing process, and nothing to be surprised by after so many months of this.

"Hey," he whispered. "Another nightmare?"

The way Rodney was trembling now disturbed him, enough to make him question this aggressive new treatment regime he'd set Rodney on. Still, rather than show any doubt, he settled back on their bed, lying there with both arms spread, all soft smiles and sleepy-eyed invitation.

Rodney took him up on it at once, scrambling over to crawl on top of him and then curl up there, face nestling in the space between his chin and his shoulder. "This one felt so real," Rodney mumbled into his throat. "I mean it actually felt like it was _me_ this time doing those _things_."

Even if he'd wanted to hold back at that point, nothing could have stopped him responding to those faint sounds of distress. He cupped a hand over Rodney's nape and drew him even closer, breathing another round of those soothing murmurs into Rodney's ear until the tension leached out of Rodney's frame and Rodney was sprawling relaxed on top of him.

"Sorry," Rodney mumbled again.

"Don't be!" John followed up that gentle reprimand by combing his fingers through Rodney's hair, listening to the soft sighs Rodney made every time he traced them over Rodney's scalp.

"I don't know _why_ this keeps happening," Rodney said after a while.

"Me either!" He was amazed at how easily the lie flowed off his tongue. "You're getting them more frequently, huh?"

Rodney nodded, almost hesitant. "I mean it's not like I have anything to _worry_ about, right?"

"Hmmm," John murmured. He wasn't really listening at that stage; he was thinking more about their past exploits, thinking about dreams themselves and the way Rodney was reacting to them. It didn't take him long to reach the conclusion that he needed to go slower, or perhaps be more selective with the memories he pushed to Rodney. God only knew he couldn't afford another setback, not when they'd come so far already.

". . . and that's crazy," he heard Rodney say when he tuned in again. "Because I've _never_ had thoughts like that before."

John homed in on the last comment. "What kind of thoughts?" he asked very softly. He tried to make the question seem non-threatening, still the tension snapped right back into Rodney's frame.

"I don't want to talk about it," Rodney muttered, picking up their old argument from where they'd left off.

"Rodney," John said as patiently as he could. "Maybe talking will help. You've tried everything else."

But, suddenly, Rodney was the one not listening now. Or, at least, _pretending_ not to listen as he wriggled and snuffled around and made other ostentatious sounds, which screamed that he was _done with talking now_ and settling in for the night.

John closed his eyes, trying to bury his frustration inside.

"You're angry."

"No, I'm not," he lied through his teeth. Once he opened his eyes though, he realized he'd been nowhere near convincing enough because Rodney was staring down at him, looking miserable and quite worried.

"Look I'm sorry, okay?" And Rodney waved a hand over their heads in an all-encompassing way. "I know it can't be easy for you having to put up with all of this."

"I'm not putting up with anything!" Which at least was true. He just wanted to fix what those Light-side scum had done to Rodney, and the sooner the better, so they could both get back to how things were supposed to be. In the final analysis though, John knew that if it came down to a choice between _this_ or no Rodney at all, then he would take Rodney any way he could. "I just want to help you get better," he insisted. "So you can deal with what happened to you and get all your old memories back."

Rodney's face fell even further. "Was I—Am I _really_ that different?"

"No!" John almost choked on the lie this time. "You're not different at all." Then he drew Rodney down and he pressed his face into Rodney's throat, trying to lose himself in the scent and the taste and in everything else that was still familiar and still _right_ about the man he loved.

***

In the morning, things went back to what now passed for normal in the McKay-Sheppard marriage. Rodney woke up bright and cheerful, so John decided to postpone the inevitable horror by sleeping in late.

***

Later, he found Rodney in the kitchen cooking up a storm. The air was thick with the smell of sugar, and Rodney was bent over the counter whistling away, kneading what looked like a pile of dough with his bare hands.

John watched him from the doorway, shuddering inside. He hated seeing Rodney like this. Rodney's hands were meant for so much more than this domestic _poodoo_. Those hands had the power in them to raze planets; they'd _rebuilt_ a star forge from scratch and kept her running virtually single-handed while designing other weapons of mass destruction. It unnerved him now to see those once great architects of doom reduced to mere _baking_.

For a long time, he just stood there in horror wondering if he could avoid this—their morning routine—without Rodney becoming suspicious. Then, suddenly, it was too late for that because Rodney looked up and caught sight of him.

"Oh, you're awake!"

"Yeah."

Rodney dashed over for a quick kiss before dashing off again. "I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed," Rodney told him on his way back to the counter. "I've made your favourite, in case you hadn't guessed!"

"Really? What's that?" he asked, playing along as he always did.

"Pancakes drizzled with the sweet syrup of maple leaves."

John smiled; he hated pancakes.

"Also, I've got mixed berries over there and cookies baking in the oven, if you're interested."

"Sounds wonderful," he muttered.

Rodney beamed at him, and John cringed inside. Even though the doctors kept telling him not to worry, he was very concerned about all the smiling they were doing these days. Something about it felt dangerously permanent, like the terror tales told in the crche of faces freezing that way when the Force changed.

Still, none of that mattered in the grand scheme of things because, as bad as the situation was, John knew he wasn't walking away from his marriage. Not once did he regret bonding so exclusively with Rodney. He was traditional to the core. He'd pledged himself to his other half, and he took those vows seriously: to guard and to protect, in sickness and in health, till death chose to blend them forever in the Force or in any lives they were granted after that.

Sometimes, though, usually when Rodney was dancing around their kitchen radiating sweetness and joy, John couldn't help wishing for more _health_ than sickness. He missed the dark love of his life, the one who would sooner destroy a solar system than look twice at it on a star chart. He missed the way they used to talk— _really_ talk—about their plans to take over the galaxy and send every Light-sider to oblivion. But, even more than that, it caused him actual physical pain to see the beautiful man he'd married so corrupted with Light.

There were _some_ benefits to the change, one of which was the _unbelievably_ nasty sex he was enjoying now on a regular basis with the kind of vanilla kink he wouldn't have _dared_ asking the old Rodney to try. Unfortunately, this _new_ Rodney also came with a whole host of downsides, things he couldn't fucking understand no matter how hard he tried. Like the bright wardrobe, the Ceylene music, and the sudden infestation of rabbits.

As though sensing his train of thought, one of those fluffy monstrosities tottered past the counter, twitching its little nose and shuffling its way forward until it decided to stop right in front of him.

John gave it one of his best death glares.

The damn thing just sat there staring up at him with its nose twitching.

He let himself toy, for a moment, with some culinary ideas of his own. Rodney had so many of these pets, he was sure Rodney wouldn't notice if a few more went missing. He knew he would just have to be extra careful when he was boiling them. Only, not _this_ particular rabbit, because this one was okay. It actually looked quite cute, like something he might want to stroke or keep even, and—

"Rodney," John growled.

"What?" Rodney jumped, looking vaguely guilty all of a sudden.

"Stop that right now! I mean it!"

"Okay, fine!" And Rodney huffed out a sound of frustration before folding both arms across his chest. "You know you might start to like them if you give them a chance."

John shook his head firmly. It was bad enough that Rodney kept stopping him from boiling the damn things; he didn't need Force-suggestions flying his way about how wonderful they were.

In spite of that, it _did_ feel like a step in the right direction. This was the first truly underhand move Rodney had tried on him since the kidnapping. It hinted at deviousness and cunning, things which were pure Rodney of old. Things which gave him some hope that one day _his_ Rodney would make it all the way back.

***

That hope soared when he later discovered that Rodney had been lying to him for some time.

After breakfast, Rodney took him to a lab he'd never seen before, where Rodney sat him down and then pushed a data pad in front of him. "So you remember the power drain in sector five," Rodney said, giving him plenty of time to go over the readings. "Well, I haven't been completely straight with you about what's causing it."

"Okay," John replied cautiously.

"It has something to do with my rabbits."

"I see," he murmured. Only, quite frankly he didn't. He never could understand Rodney's fascination with those creatures. All they ever seemed to do was eat, sleep, fuck and just produce more of themselves. Then, they just got in the way of everything! Which, apparently, was what they were doing yet again. "Listen, whatever you need from me to fix this, it's yours," he promised. "That _is_ why you brought me here, right?"

"Not exactly!" Rodney stared at him for a moment in a speculative way before seeming to come to a decision of some sort. "Fine, I suppose I can trust you. Just promise not to laugh, okay?"

After that, Rodney tapped something on that data pad, the wall in front of them _dematerialized_ , and suddenly laughing was the furthest thing from his mind.

There were thousands of them. Literally hundreds of thousands of them, all housed in an intricate array of pens, which seemed to stretch back for miles.

"I call it the Super-Warren™," Rodney told him with pride. "It's the only one in the galaxy! I've designed it to be completely self-cleaning, self-sustaining and self-expanding." And no sooner had Rodney rattled off those features than several new pens emerged, stocked and ready for rabbit occupants. "Of course, that takes about a hundred terawatts a day," Rodney muttered, sounding quite dejected all of a sudden. "Which is why, you know, the power drain!"

John just nodded, too stunned to speak.

"My _real_ problem is that I'm running out of space." At which point, Rodney got rid of _another_ wall to show him just how big this thing was. "I thought about adding another section to Atlantis," Rodney said blithely, oblivious to the fact that he wasn't taking this _at all_ well. "But the truth is: I'm just not giving them the quality time they deserve. I've been _trying_ to, of course. But you have no idea how hard it is to keep up at the rate they're breeding these days."

John stared at Rodney, not sure what to do now. And for a while there, Rodney didn't say anything at all.

Then, Rodney let out a huge sigh, his chin went up a little, and he said: "So, I was thinking that maybe it's time for me to release my pets into the galaxy. And I was hoping you would help me pick a new home for them."

It took a few moments for those words to sink in. Mostly because John was still in denial about the extent of Rodney's rabbit fixation. But slowly, very slowly, the words ' _release my pets into the galaxy_ ' began to filter through his brain.

When the full implication of that finally hit, John shook his head in awe. "Rodney, I—That's—" _Genius_ , he thought. _Absolute fucking genius_! Rabbits had a tendency to breed like mad, whether in the wild or in captivity. And if Rodney released this many on one planet, they would over-run _everything_ , causing chaos, mayhem and untold destruction.

"So, you don't think this is weird?" Rodney waved a hand in the vague direction of the Super-Warren™. "You know, having so many of them?"

"Of course not!" And John threw in a reassuring smile to close the deal. What he didn't say was that this had to be the most cunning plan for world domination in Sith history. Clearly, something of the _old_ Rodney was fighting to get out, and if Rodney's subconscious had tapped into the dark side to breed these creatures, then he owed it to Rodney to help in any way he could. "I know: you could release them on Terra," he told Rodney, getting into the spirit of things now.

Rodney gave him a curious look. "Why _there_?"

"Well, Terra's a thriving planet full of life," John explained. "Lush flowers, open fields and beautiful ponds: it's perfect for bunny rabbits."

"That sounds wonderful! Thank-you!"

"No problem," he said sincerely. Terra was home to Light-side sympathizers; those rebel scum would never see _this_ coming.

Moments later, after sensing a glimmer of relief in Rodney, he added: "Hey, you do know you can come to me with anything, right?"

"Of course I do! You've been so patient and wonderful; I don't know what I would have done without you!" Only, Rodney sighed after that, looking quite anxious all of a sudden. "It's just, I _want_ to go back to work, because I've got so many new ideas. But you made me promise to take things easy, at least until I get my memories back. So, I didn't see the point in mentioning some of my bigger plans."

It occurred to John then that perhaps he'd approached Rodney's rehabilitation the wrong way. Rather than trying to push the darkness back along their bond, perhaps all he needed to do was to be more supportive of Rodney's creative instincts and nurture the darkness from within. "Why don't you tell me what else you've got planned," he suggested.

"Really?"

John nodded. This time, when Rodney beamed at him, he managed not to cringe.

"Okay, so you know how I _love_ Ceylene's music," Rodney began.

"Yes," John said through clenched teeth.

"Well, I was thinking about doing something unique, something that would help this galaxy find its next Ceylene."

Then, Rodney proceeded to describe an idea so diabolical John actually shivered with horror. It wasn't the obvious path to darkness, but dark it still was and incredibly so with its weekly eliminations and its sinister promise to make the winner a star. In fact, John felt certain that Rodney's plan to implement an intra-planetary voting system would surely bring the galaxy to its knees. "Tell me more," he begged, salivating at the thought.

And as Rodney unleashed a torrent of dark ideas, John stood there grinning, convinced at last that _his_ Rodney was on the way the back.

  
The End.


End file.
